A.K.A “Not more bloody forms”.

So after an initially hopeful session of therapy where I started (please note the word ‘started’ here) getting into the issues around my depression and how far back they go in my life, how I felt as a child and all that, I’m back to ‘working on behaviours’ and filling in (or not as the case may be, it’s technically ‘homework’ so it can be done at the last minute as is proper for such things) little forms about mostly inconsequential areas of my life.

I am going to give this a try again. I have to , I have no other choice. I just wish that I could have some form of therapy that allowed me to talk about things, that tried to get to the roots of all this, as opposed to more sticking plasters that will eventually peel off and leave a sticky mess. This happened before, I had a session or two though ‘ohh this is good, I’m being brave opening up, talking about stuff’ and as soon as that teeny little gap opened up it got closed again as it all went filling in daft forms tastic. If anything it’s far more frustrating to see that brief glimpse and then have it cut off again than it is to never see it. I’ll probably get discharged again at the end of it as unless I try to sever my my own arm off in-front of someone I’m obviously ‘O.K’ and don’t need more money spent on me. I read a statistic about how a high percentage of CBT patients end up getting discharged at the end of their teeny tiny allotted time scale of treatment only to wander back in again a year or so later feeling much the same. I can see that happening to me. All in the pursuit of ‘outcomes’ or whatever, being able to fill in a form saying someone completed this course of and as they haven’t yet killed themselves or been caught trying to gnaw off their own leg they’re ‘fine’.

From what I can gather I’m pencilled in for about 6 more sessions of less than an hour. That is what I am being offered for a problem that leaves me currently unable to work and if I’m brutally honest, may leave my life at risk. A problem I have been ‘treated’ for for the last 5 (or is it 6?) years with little or no lasting improvement. In short something that’s a major, chronic health concern but may have less treatment time spent on it than a stubborn verruca.

Maybe I should write the forms in blood? Just for a laugh.

I’m considering going private, which as a someone who doesn’t really agree with private healthcare and is also utterly skint, is a scary prospect.

As an aside, my spell check did not know the word ‘verruca’ yet the computer’s dictionary did. Perhaps I am not mad but the world is?

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Comments

  1. Heath says:

    I won’t even go into how I accidentally stumbled across your blog, but I just wanted to say, from a guy who survived clinical depression and came out the other side; Keep plugging away. Knowing there is a problem and continuing to make strides is the most important thing. Also, I know nothing about the health care systems in England, but I had a private psychologist who did wonders for me. Good luck!

Feel free to comment, I do love a good debate

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